Trevor Kelly had loved horror ever since he was a kid. It was a love that began when he visited the state fair one summer, and he got to go on a haunted house ride for the first time. The ride may have been cheap, and the scares themselves fairly mediocre, but to a 7-year old Trevor it had been exhilarating and novel experience. The creepy, the macabre, the spooky were all things that fascinated him, and still did to this day.
Halloween, was of course, his favourite holiday - the entire Halloween season was a pure joy, dedicated not just to experiencing scares, but scaring others too. The free candy was the proverbial cherry on top of everything. By the time Trevor had grown up and moved out, he’d started a yearly tradition of hosting his own haunted house event every Halloween. He’d expertly set up his yard and house with a different theme each year, even getting close friends to play as extras in the haunted house. He loved doing it, and the people in his neighbourhood loved to see what new scares he’d be able to come up with that year.
Trevor couldn’t help but feel a little unsatisfied though. Halloween was nice, and he loved sharing his love of horror with everyone, but it only came by once a year. He’d love to bring the scares all year round, but he knew that most people didn’t quite share the same level of near-obsessive love for horror.
But then, he discovered something that would change his life forever - fluffy ponies. Through interactions with strays out on the street, Trevor had come to know that the pastel creatures were terrified of damn near everything. Easily scared, easily startled and lacking the self-consciousness to try and hide their reactions. He had discovered the perfect playmates for his love of horror.
And so it was, that Trevor had set out one late August evening, in search of subjects for his latest experiment in fear. Skulking about the public park at night, it hadn’t taken long for him to find what he was looking for. Next to some bushes by a street lamp, he’d noticed the badly hidden next of a family of fluffs. Sleeping there without a care in the world was a gray-blue mare and three foals curled up on her back.
For a moment, Trevor merely observed the slumbering family. None of the foals had manes or tails, still just blind chirping infants. The mother farted in her sleep, and one of the foals peeped in alarm. The mother mumbled something, still half-asleep and the foal quieted down, snuggling into its mother’s fluff in search of comfort. The foals still being blind made the task at hand easier, but Trevor knew he would need to act quickly with the mother. He didn’t want the critters to see him just yet, since it might lessen the impact of his proper introduction later.
Readying a burlap sack he’d brought along, Trevor quietly snuck up closer to the sleeping fluffies. He inched closer, trying not to make a sound, even quieting his breathing as much as he could. Finally within striking distance, Trevor thrust out his hand and violently grasped the back of the mare’s neck. The mare barely had time to open her eyes and scream before Trevor roughly shoved her into the sack face down.
Good - the hard part was over with. The chirpies that had only a moment ago been sleeping safe and sound on the back of their beloved mother, had now fallen onto the ground below. All three chirped loudly in fear and confusion, blind to the world and what had just happened. One by one Trevor picked the foal’s up off the ground and tossed them into the sack on top of their mother. Each one pissed itself upon being picked up, their panicked vocalizations intensifying. Trevor cursed himself for not having had the foresight to bring gloves, as his free hand was now covered in the piss of three frightened foals. Wiping his hand off on the burlap sack, Trevor slung the bag of fluffies over his shoulder and began making his way back home.
“HEWP! MUNSTAH HAB FWUFFY! HEWP MUMMAH AN’ BABBEHS!” the mother screamed and hollered from within her burlap prison. The foals too chirped and peeped in distress, having even less of a clue as to what was happening, and made even more anxious by their own mother’s panicked yelling. Trevor himself was just grateful there were no other people around - someone seeing him absconding in the middle of the night with a burlap sack that emanated what sounded like the cries of children wasn’t exactly a great look.
Trevor made his way back home without incident, though halfway there the sack had begun to emanate a disgusting smell, and he swore he felt something wet on his back. He was already happy with their scared reactions, but he really could’ve done without all the bodily waste. Stepping into his house, Trevor excitedly strode towards the door leading to his basement. The stairs leading down into the basement proper were old, and creaked ominously with each step - a perfect addition to Trevor’s intended ambience.
The basement had been richly decorated with all manner of macabre elements: fake spiderwebs and rubber spiders, lanterns, skulls with glowing red LED eyes. Lighting was provided by some dingy lightbulbs that cast the entire room with sickly yellow light, and left long crawling shadows The Dungeon was ready to accept its new guests. Trevor sat the sack on the floor, and went back upstairs to get ready. This next part would be pivotal, and he needed to make a good first impression. To this end, Trevor had prepared a costume. It was, truthfully, a rather basic arrangement - a rubber goblin mask to cover his face, costume gloves meant to imitate the clawed hands of some beast or other, and a black cloak with a hood that covered the rest of his body. To the average person it would’ve been a fairly uninspired and unremarkable Halloween costume. To a fluffy, however, it would be the stuff of nightmares.
Now all dressed up for the occasion, Trevor went back down into the basement. The sack on the floor shook every now and then as the fluffy mother inside attempted to free herself, unsuccessfully. Her earlier panicked screaming had now been replaced by a quiet trepidation, as she nervously called out from within the sack.
“Hewwo? Am anywun dewe? Fwuffy nee’ hewp! Meanie baggy munstah nu gud fo’ mummah an’ babbehs!”
Trevor walked slowly towards the burlap sack and the fluffies within. Each step a slow and deliberate stomp. The shaking from within the sack ceased as the mare went still. Listening intently, the mare began to shake involuntarily as her rears registered the sound of heavy footfalls approaching her. Doom… doom… doom… doom…
In the dim light of the basement, Trevor reached out his hand towards the wriggling sack of fluffies and spoke, putting on his best “monster voice”.
“Little fluffies, come out… come say hello.”
“Huuuu voicie am’ scawy! Nu wike!”
“Come out little fluffies!” Trevor said again, more aggressively.
“Huu huu… fwuffy nu can weab meanie baggy! Fwuffy nee’ hewp!”
Trevor smirked underneath his mask, before he reached out and grabbed one end of the sack and lifted it. A moment later, the mare and her foals gently tumbled out of the sack onto the hard concrete floor of Trevor’s dungeon. Disoriented from the fall, and owing to fluffies’ inherently abysmal vision in low-light environments, the mare couldn’t quite make out the features on Trevor’s face. For a solid moment she merely stared at Trevor, squinting her eyes. Her foals chirped in fear and discomfort at the cold and rough floor they’d tumbled onto. Then, the features of Trevor’s face - or rather mask - finally came into focus, and the mare saw for the first time what her captor looked like.
“SCREEEEEEEEE! MUNSTAH!” the mare screamed while proceeding to let out a jet of liquid feces onto the dungeon floor. She turned to run, but stumbled and fell over. In complete and utter panic she scrambled to her feet and ran away, blindly, with no direction in mind.
“Chirp! Peep! Chirreep!” the foals were attempting to call out to their mother, who had utterly abandoned them in her desperate flight. Trevor was honestly rather shocked at how completely she’d forgotten about her own children. Guess his costume turned out scarier than he’d imagined. Trevor noticed that one of the foals was attempting to crawl away. Unlike its siblings, who merely cried for salvation passively, this one had enough of a survival instinct to attempt to flee - be it utterly ineffectually. Picking up the scrambling foal, Trevor held it up to his face to get a better look.
“Chirp! Peep! Peep! Chirp!” the wiggling yellow one said. Trevor merely nodded in agreement. Trevor turned his gaze back to the foal’s mother, who, having run into a fall and finding it unsympathetic to her pleas for safe passage out of this place, was now covering her eyes with her front legs and sobbing quietly. Not exactly the brightest one, even by fluffy standards.
Deciding to capture the mare’s attention. Trevor roughly pinched the yellow foal in his hands on its flank.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” the critter’s prior chirping morphed into a continuous tinny wail of pain. The foal was now wriggling as hard it could, twisting its head this and that way, batting it’s tiny hooves ineffectually at Trevor’s iron grip. The mare, lifting her head at the noise seemed to finally realise that her children were at the monster’s mercy. Mustering all her courage and determination, the mare called out:
“NUUUU! NU HUWT BABBEH!”
Running back towards the monster holding her precious baby captive, the mare swiftly collected her other foals underneath herself in a protective gesture. Well, at least this one wasn’t completely lacking in maternal instincts, Trevor thought. With the mare’s full attention on him now, Trevor breathed in deep before letting out a slow, menacing chuckle - the classic evil laugh.
“Wha munstah waffin abou’?”
Trevor hit the light switch embedded in the nearby wall, plunging the Dungeon into darkness. “SCAWY! FWUFFY NU WIKE DAWKIES!” the mare screamed, as Trevor quietly stepped away from her in the tenebrous basement. He pinched the foal in his hand again, and it let out another pathetic “EEEEEEEEEEEEE” in response.
“BABBEH? BABBEH AM HUWTIES? WHEWE AM BABBEH!?”
Trevor couldn’t see in the dark any better than the mare could, but he knew his way around the basement by touch, more or less. Every few moments he’d change his position, and pinch the foal again, eliciting more piteous wailing from the infant fluffy and more panicked scrambling from its mother.
“Huu huu huu… babbeh hab su many huwties bu’ mummah nu can fin’ babbeh cause’ meanie dawkies… huu…”
Trevor struggled to contain his laughter, but he eventually got himself under control, and put on the villainous theatrics once more:
“I’m going to eat… your babbeh, heh heh heh”
To a human it would’ve sounded horrendously cheesy, but the performance was more than enough to send the fluffy mother into full on hysterics.
“NUUUUUUUUUU! PWEASE! AM ONWY WIDDOW YEWWOW BABBEH! NU DU ANYFIN WONG! PWEASE MUNSTAH NU NUM BABBEH!”
Trevor was loving this, he haven’t had this much fun with scares this cheap since he was a kid. It was getting a bit late however, so he decided to stop for the night. He considered leaving the foal in the basement - he was curious whether the mother would be able to find her way to it in the darkness before morning came - but in the end he decided to take the foal upstairs with him. Let the mare stew in the anxiety of not knowing whether her baby was alive or “munstah” food.
Quietly, Trevor snuck up the basement stairs, peeping yellow foal in hand. For the time being, he decided to leave the foal in the kitchen sink. It was uncomfortable enough to stress out the foal while also not giving it any opportunities to accidentally hurt itself or escape.
Looking at the foal shivering and pitifully chirping in his kitchen sink, Trevor began to think of his plans for tomorrow. There were a lot of fun ideas he wanted to try on his new house guests, and if today was any indication, he was sure he was gonna love every second of it. Leaving the yellow foal to its own devices in the cold metallic confines of the kitchen sink, Trevor made his way to his bedroom, where he fell into a gentle, restful slumber.
